Not my typical Sunday

I grew up with a dear grandfather who taught me about the importance of Sunday and what the Lord asks of us. He talked about keeping the Sabbath holy and would break it down for me since I was very young. Simply put, he would tell me, "It means you should always go to church and give thanks to the Lord, no matter what." He'd continue by explaining that Sunday was NOT meant to be a day of work but instead a day of rest. Then he'd pull out the family Bible and read the verse about God resting on Sunday.

Those loving words have stayed with me all my life. And even though my Grandfather probably didn't think I was getting the importance of his words, I understood his amazing faith in God and how he wanted to share this with me. More importantly, he followed his words by setting the example of doing them. I knew that when Sunday rolled around, Grandpa would be at church first, then home for Sunday lunch followed by a long afternoon of rest.  

I have worked hard to do the same as I was taught so long ago. Yes, I have had my Sundays of failing to make church and working hard when I should have been concentrating on what really mattered most, giving time to the Lord. As these years of suffering with Chronic Pain have rolled by, there have been so many times when the last thing I wanted to do was attend church. Instead, I wanted to just stay in bed and try to cope with the Pain.  

Over the years, I have heard numerous priests and ministers comment on how the Lord "has a sense of humor." This past Sunday, HE gave me a front row seat to humor! For months now, I have been struggling with stomach problems–or as they call it, Acid Reflux Disease, probably brought on because instead of releasing my worries to the Lord as I should, my habit is to just hold everything in. Trust me, this does NOT work well!

I got up and thought everything was going well, took my medication for the acid reflux and suddenly, without any warning, found myself seriously ill and unable to leave the bathroom. My prayers were flying all around me, and I was truly begging the Lord to help me get through this as sweat was pouring off me. I have lived in Texas my entire life and know what real heat is like. This was the first time I had ever sweated so much!

Finally, with my "Hidden Angels," I managed to make my way to the bed and tried to rest. My dear husband was outside, and I was praying he'd come inside fast because I needed him, bad! Before I knew it, here he came with his usual habit of walking through all the house to my office, then the kitchen, his office and finally he was standing at our bed. He took one look at me and knew, "Something is not right with my wife."

All I said was, "Call EMS!"  

This was a first for me. There have been times when I have told my husband to get me to the hospital when an illness would hit me. But I'd never uttered those words. Here I was, telling him to get me an ambulance, fast! What I was not saying to him was how badly dehydrated my body was. I knew getting fluids into me fast was only going to work at a hospital. My dear husband just stood frozen and said "Are you sure that I can't take you?" Now a wife has a moment when a certain look comes across her face, and husbands universally recognize it in a heartbeat! Again my voice croaked out, "Call EMS–Now!"

He could not get to the phone fast enough.

Within minutes, I heard that familiar sound of sirens coming. Before I knew it, everything was happening so fast. Questions being asked. Me trying to answer them, then explaining to the EMS guy that I had only two good veins that he would be able to find for fluids. He paused for just a second and then said, "Martha, I am going to climb up on your bed so we can get to your arm and do this quickly." I was fine with it. But for whatever reason, I glanced around him and saw my precious husband, his face had a look of fear on it that I had never seen. Something or someone seemed to be telling me, "Say anything to lighten the mood up right now." So being the plain-spoken person that I am, I could not resist saying to the EMS  guy, "I have been married for almost 37 years, and this is the first time I ever had a strange man in my bed.  The only man has been my husband, and he is standing right behind you!"  

First, there was silence. Then blessed laughter followed as the redness left this poor man's face and he said, "This is a first for me, and I will never forget it! We all shared a quick chuckle, and I noticed my husband was more at ease as I was being rolled out on the stretcher to the ambulance. Now we live directly behind our church, meaning if I tried really hard, I could probably throw a rock and get close to the church. Now came the moment for the Lord's sense of humor to arrive!

Something hit me, and I glanced toward the church, heard the familiar sound of Sunday bells and realized, "Oh, my God, church is just letting out. Here I am in my PJs, looking awful and strapped to a gurney! One of our church members had already driven up to see if he could be of help, and I was touched by that. We did not linger long, and it was off to the hospital. I was given excellent care and a lot of fluids and was back home that evening, still worrying about what people were thinking and who saw all this unfold.  

The next day, our phone started to ring with church members wanting to offer prayer and let me know how concerned they were. Nobody was worried about how I looked, and they assured me that prayers were offered up right there on the spot as the ambulance took me away. I thanked them and bowed my head in humble prayer for the Lord putting us exactly where He wanted us to be, right behind the church.

Strange to say this, but Sunday was my moment of Joy when I found the strength to bring laughter into a tense moment and help my husband relax. Maybe it wasn't the best comment to make, but I have a feeling that young EMS man will remember it for a long time. Yes, there is humor in the worst of times! So do not be afraid to reach for that second of  laughter because it helps!

God bless you all.